


i can see the brush strokes

by moondances



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Fluff, Gentle boys in love, Just a little tho, M/M, but like... if fluff was like... gentle, gyuhao thesis: a beach house and love that feels like art, happy birthday to the world's muse, minghao i love u, the author loves xu minghao and kim mingyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27437770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondances/pseuds/moondances
Summary: Minghao has never been one to make much of a fuss of his birthday.The difference this year is that Minghao has found himself in a... situation, one could say.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 11
Kudos: 131





	i can see the brush strokes

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! happy birthday to the most wonderful boy in the world, who in my opinion is the eighth wonder of the world. this is entirely unbeta'd and entirely self indulgent as is almost everything i have ever written. 
> 
> hopefully you can bare through my purple prose and it isn't too...... [waves hands nonsensically]
> 
> anyway. enjoy!

Minghao has never been one to make much of a fuss of his birthday. He typically likes to hide out at home, order take out, have a glass of wine, and maybe, _maybe_ , get a cake if he's really feeling in the spirit. It's nothing sad, nothing that he ever did on purpose, it's just that he likes to think of himself as a lowkey kind of guy. He doesn't need much to be happy. He's content with what he has, and he thinks that's a good thing. His parents loved to spoil him at home, and of _course_ , he'd never have complainedwhen they bought him new things (he's simple, not snotty.)

Still, he doesn't see the point in a gift if it's not thoughtful. _That is_ not _snotty,_ that is _special_. His favorite gift he ever received was one from his parents on his sixteenth birthday when he had mentioned a few times the months prior that he'd really like to pick up painting. For his birthday, they prepared him a nice dinner, and handed him a wooden crate with beautiful floral decorations on it. (His mom was never one for a typical birthday wrap –– Being a florist, her gifts always had a touch of her garden on them. Minghao had a whole journal of flowers pressed from gifts over the years). Inside the box was a set of paints, brushes, and other supplies he would need to get started. If he had cried when he'd opened it, that was _his_ business, thank you.

So, when his birthday rolls around this year, that is the same philosophy he lives by. He doesn't need more than he's got. He just likes a little company. And maybe some wine. (Okay, and definitely some wine. Actually, maybe it's wine first, company second.)

The difference this year is that Minghao has found himself in a... situation, one could say.

That situation comes in the form of a six-foot-two, wide-eyed, clumsy, beautiful boy, and with perfect timing, he stumbles through the door at seven eighteen in the evening, all pink cheeks flushed from the chilly Seoul breeze, a sleepover bag on his back, and a guilty smile on his face.

Minghao squints at him, curious, and crosses his arms over his chest. "What?"

"I would have been here at seven fifteen, but the bus was stuck because there was a dog that wouldn't get out of the road, and so we sat there for, like, at least eight minutes until––" Resignation crosses over his face, like he just now realized he hasn't even said hello yet, and he drops his bags, and grins wide and goofy at Minghao, rushing forward to pull him into a bone crushing hug.

Minghao's heart belly flops to his diaphragm, and he smiles into Mingyu's chest, dopey. "Hi," he murmurs against his sternum, kisses the skin just above his navy blue sweater, wraps his arms around Mingyu's waist, _closer, closer,_ thinks, _I fit right here in this spot._

Both of Mingyu's hands find home on Minghao's cheeks, and he squeezes them together until Minghao's lips stick out in a comical kissy face. They both laugh (read: giggle), and then Mingyu is kissing him, wet and sloppy and sweet all over his lips, nose, forehead, his eyelids when Minghao closes them to hide the smile that has found the corners of his eyes. Then, Mingyu drops his arms to Minghao's neck, lazily pulls him in, and kisses him for real, like it matters, like something out of a movie. Kisses him breathless. Kisses him _hello,_ kisses him _how are you,_ kisses him _beautiful, I love you, I miss you, can you get closer, crawl inside me, make a home here._

Kisses him silly, until he's smiling, all tongue and teeth clashing when Mingyu finally, like honey, smooth and sweet, kisses "Happy birthday, Hao," into his mouth.

Minghao lets himself melt, just for a moment, soft as silk in Mingyu's arms, before he scoops himself up, musters up all of his gusto to kiss Mingyu back, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

Mingyu's hands tangle in his hair, and Minghao sighs, happy and content and warm all over.

They kiss like it's all they know how to do –– and maybe it is. Minghao wonders, if it was him and Mingyu and a home on a beach under the stars, would they know each other more? deeper? better? Would Mingyu still kiss him like it was the last day they had together, if they knew they'd have all of their days together? Would Minghao still paint Mingyu in shades of blue and yellow when he finds out all of Mingyu's bad nights and cloudy days?

What a silly thing to wonder, he almost laughs into his lover's skin. Thinks, this boy will never be anything except yellows and blues. Thinks, Mingyu kisses so carefully, with intent every time, is so punctual and perfect, he could never be anything but. Thinks, _the very same arms that are pushing me towards the bedroom will block me against the door of our beach house, maybe we built it._

Mingyu lays Minghao out on the bed, spreads his big hands across Minghao's chest, finds his way under Minghao's shirt, pushes it off. He flattens his hands over his belly, spreads his fingers across his skin, warmth covering Minghao like a wildfire.

He's not sure how long they lay like that, with Mingyu touching him like he's something meant to be treasured. It's out of the usual, that's for sure, but the lights are low, and Mingyu feels a little bit like coming home, and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe he's meant to be treasured if it's by Mingyu.

A little noise rips from the back of his throat when Mingyu's thumbnail grazes just so over his nipple, and his hips tick up at the feeling, and Mingyu meets him halfway, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.

"Hi," he comes in close, brings a hand to Minghao's hair, and he swallows thick in his throat, his own hand finds Mingyu's, and he tangles their fingers together.

"Hey," Minghao murmurs, thankful for the low lighting hiding his furiously pink cheeks. He thinks he's doing a wonderful job at avoiding perception.

Until, "Pretty," Mingyu's voice drops low, fingers dusting over the apples of his cheeks.

Minghao coughs, turning his head to the side, which is a terrible idea because Mingyu's lips latch onto the side of his neck. He scrapes his teeth against the skin, and nips once, twice, three times before sucking what will surely be a pretty purple bruise in the morning into the juncture behind his ear.

He curls his toes into the mattress, hardly used to letting himself be so vulnerable, even all these months later. Despite himself, he smiles when he feels Mingyu kissing around to the front of his face until he finds his lips, presses the pad of his thumb to Minghao's lip. He takes it in, sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, saccharine around all of his edges.

They kiss while Mingyu takes him apart, and it's been a while since they've been together like this, been a while since Mingyu worked him open last, so he goes slow, meticulous, like he does with most things.

Minghao falls apart on two of Mingyu's fingers, feels like he's been read wide open, but Mingyu kisses him through it, hushes him and folds him in on himself, asks if he's good for more.

When he nods, Mingyu carefully adds a third, and Minghao _wants_ to say he doesn't have to be so gentle with him, but maybe tonight he does. Maybe tonight Minghao wants him to be gentle with him.

He's always loved art. He loves to make it, to look at it, to learn about it, to feel like he lives around it, between it, inside of it. He loves to paint his life colorful, loves to paint his life warm. He finds art in the places and people he loves, and maybe –– Maybe he wants to feel like art tonight, too.

He tells Mingyu as much, and Mingyu hums like he's considering it as he pulls his fingers out of him. He flutters around the emptiness and frowns. Then Mingyu coats himself wet like Minghao likes, and lines up with his hole. Minghao can feel him pressed just at the entrance, and he actually _whines_ , which is a sound he doesn't think he's ever made before. " _Please,_ Gyu, wanna feel you now."

Mingyu fucks him like that –– slow and sweet like tangerines and a slow building wave, capped white as it tips over.

Minghao wraps both legs around his waist, pulls him impossibly closer, kisses open mouthed at his neck, and Mingyu meets him with steady, _perfect_ placed movements of his hips.

"Mingyu, I––" He shifts his angle then, and Minghao keens mid sentence, his eyes shooting open and up until he finds the other boy in the dark, manages out, "There, there, s'perfect."

Even like this, Mingyu loves the praise, practically lives for it, and Minghao knows that, can feel it in the way that Mingyu's hips speed up, like he takes new direction, and reaches between their bodies until he finds Minghao's cock, wraps his fingers around it.

Minghao chokes at the feeling. Mingyu's hands are so big and his fingers are so long sometimes he wonders if he could wrap them around him twice. The thought makes his eyes roll back in his head, and it's then that he starts to grind his own hips down, meeting Mingyu's thrusts.

"M'close, baby, I––" Mingyu stutters, both his hips and his words, " _––_ 'm gonna come, Hao."

Some other day, Minghao might bat him away, _not yet_ , he would say, kiss the pout away, but tonight, he just nods, "Me, too, m'so close, you feel so good," and there he goes, he can't _stop_ once he starts talking to Mingyu, is the thing, and he hates it. Mingyu doesn't, though, if the pretty sounds coming from his mouth are any indicator. "Love it when you fuck me, Mingyu. Fuck me so good, you know that? Make me feel so good, bǎobèi."

Mingyu gasps, wastes no time speeding up, so focused on fucking Minghao that he forgets his hand, which is _fine_ because Minghao fucks up into his fist in time with his thrusts, pulls him down for a kiss, and moans sweet and high into his mouth.

Minghao comes first, paints both of their chests and bellies white, and Mingyu fucks him through it, fucks him through the waves of his own orgasm, rides it out with slow movements. It could be minutes or hours later, he's not sure, but when Mingyu pulls out of him, he immediately misses him being so close, and he must tell, because he kisses him quick. "Hush, I'll be right back, we've gotta get you cleaned up."

Laying there in the bed, he watches as Mingyu comes back and flips on a string of warm Christmas lights. Golden and warm and _home_ , he thinks, as the other boy crawls back in bed, tracing a warm washcloth over Minghao's stomach and between his thighs, fingers careful and practiced. He smiles something secret and shy, blushing fire truck engine red, and drags Mingyu down for a kiss.

The light casts over them in shades of autumn and morning glow, despite the hours crawling later into the evening. Minghao knows it's still early enough that Mingyu has more planned, but lying here beside him is more than enough. It's more than enough to feel Mingyu's fingers trace flowers on his hip bones, more than enough to reach over and ink vines and branches up his arms until he cups both of Mingyu's cheeks in his hands, breathes, "I love you."

In his own sort of reassurance, Mingyu says, "Let's move to the beach."

Minghao's heart stutters an eighth note, falters on the beat, a wicked sense of _I belong right here_ blossoms in his chest. 

"Right now?"

Mingyu hums, thoughtful. "No. Maybe," he smiles around his words. Minghao thinks he looks peaceful like this. His eyes closed, his hands holding Minghao close, a smile just for the two of them sleepy on his lips. "Someday. I'd like to have a home with you. On a beach." 

Minghao's eyes prickle, thinks, _we could build it ourselves._

"I want to build a home with you," Mingyu adds, and Minghao sighs dreamily, buries his smile in the dip of his collarbone, kisses the skin. "Hang your art on the wall, cook you dinner and eat it by the water, kiss you under the stars. I want to build a home with you," he repeats.

Mingyu never thought himself of an artist the same way Minghao does, but when he speaks, poetry unfolds, curls into Minghao's bones like silk and liquor, presses into his space. Minghao thinks Mingyu's words belong in a book, in a museum. Maybe, Minghao just thinks Mingyu belongs in a museum. 

With as much tact as he can manage, he presses his hand to Mingyu's chest. "Home is right here," he kisses the spot over his heart, "for me," brushes his fingertips over his rib cage. "But I'd love to make one together."

And because Mingyu is Mingyu, later that night there is a surprise birthday cake and candles, fruits stacked on top, a sweet, whipped icing holding them together, and a bottle of fancy red wine just like Minghao likes. They share berry stained, wine sweet kisses into the night, and Minghao thinks of a home on a beach under the stars, rings on fingers, maybe, a permanent golden glow always directly at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this little thing!!! everyone say happy birthday minghao
> 
> find me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jihanisms) if you'd like  
> also i made a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jihanisms) so you can also come chat there


End file.
